Halloween Party (Fear Street Book 8)

The only window was covered with a heavy metal security grate, and there was only one door.

Murphy immediately began pounding on it, but it was solid oak. “Let us out!” he shouted.

Alex and Ricky pulled and pried at the security grate, but it wouldn’t budge.

“We’re trapped!” Angela yelled shrilly. “She’s trapped us in here with a—a—dead—”

“Calm down, Angela,” said Niki, taking her gently by her shoulders.

“Yes,” agreed Trisha, her own voice shaking. “We’ve got to keep calm—we’ve got to think clearly . . . . ”

At that moment Justine’s little bell rang, from outside the window. “Surprise!” she called in to them, her face close to the security grate. She was shining a powerful flashlight on her face. They hurried to the window. It had stopped raining, they saw.

“Now, wasn’t this the best Halloween trick of all?” Justine said, obviously pleased with herself.

“Let us out of here, Justine,” said Terry. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but David will be back any minute—with the police!”

“Then I’d better hurry, hadn’t I?” she said calmly. She smiled at all her guests, a cruel, mocking smile. “It’s time for the last surprise of the evening,” she said. “But first I want you all to sit at your places at the table and open the gift boxes.”

“You’ve lied to us from the beginning!” said Alex. “Why should we do anything you say?”

“Because,” said Justine coldly, “I will be very angry if you spoil my surprise. And who knows what I might do then? Now, find your places!”

One by one the guests drifted to the table and sat down. For a minute or so the only sound was of chairs scraping along the floor, punctuated by sniffling from Angela.

“Is everybody ready?” said Justine. “Good. Now we will finish playing Truth. Only this time it’s my turn to tell the truth—and for you to pay the penalty.”

She smiled her crazy smile, and Terry again felt cold. Maybe she just wanted to talk, he hoped. He’d heard that some insane people simply needed a chance to talk about the things that were bothering them. Besides, she was outside the house—what could she possibly do to them in there?

“Before I begin,” Justine went on, “I’d like you to unwrap your packages.” She waited while the guests untied the boxes. Inside each one was an identical photograph of a smiling young couple dressed in clothes of the sixties. The woman had dark hair, but she looked hauntingly like Justine.

“The pictures are of a couple named Edmund and Cissy,” Justine told them. “Now I want you to look at the pictures while I tell you a story.” She glanced around the room to make sure everyone was looking at a copy of the picture. “Edmund and Cissy,” Justine began, “were just like you—young, full of happiness and hope for the future. They were full of hope, that is, until twenty-eight years ago tonight.” She paused, then went on in a singsong way, as if she had memorized a script.

“Twenty-eight years ago it was Halloween, just like tonight. Edmund and Cissy had been visiting friends. They were on their way home to their one-year-old daughter, whom they loved very much. Their car was going south on Old Mill Road.”

Again she paused. Even though he knew what was coming, Terry couldn’t help listening, fascinated, as the story unfolded.

“At the same time,” Justine continued, “there were two cars full of teenagers driving north on Old Mill Road. They had just been to a Halloween party and were still partying. They decided to drag. There were exactly nine of them in the two cars.

“One block from the corner of Fear Street and Old Mill Road, one of the cars with teenagers in it collided head-on with the car carrying the young couple. Their car rolled into a ditch and burst into flames. By the time firemen got there, it was too late to save them.”

Terry could tell from the looks on the other guests’ faces that most of them had guessed the truth by now. Angela and Trisha were both crying, tears running down their faces.

Justine went on, her face cruel and old looking in the flashlight beam. “I want you to shut your eyes now and imagine what Edmund and Cissy felt that night,” she said. “Imagine how it felt to be trapped in a burning car, the heat unbearable, with no possible escape. And no one to help you no matter how loudly you screamed. You may have guessed by now that Edmund and Cissy were my parents. But you may not have guessed the names of the teenagers in the other two cars.” She recited names slowly. Terry heard gasps as different guests recognized the names of their own parents.

“None of the teenagers were even hurt,” Justine said. “None of them ever paid for what they did to my parents. So I have decided that you, their children, will pay.”

There wasn’t a sound from the dining room, except for the sniffling of Angela and Tricia.

“Les had the honor of paying first,” said Justine, “because it was his father who drove the car that killed my parents. The rest of you will go together, the way your parents should have all those years ago.”

“No!” Angela screamed suddenly. “How can you make us responsible for something that happened before we were born? It’s not fair!”

“What happened to my parents wasn’t fair either!” cried Justine.

“Let us go,” Murphy pleaded. “We won’t tell anyone what we know!”

Justine scrutinized him a moment, then burst into laughter. “Do you really think it’s that easy?” she said.

Terry looked at Niki, feeling hopeless. He didn’t know what Justine had in mind, but he was sure it was something horrible.

“We’ve got to keep her talking,” Niki whispered.

“What?”

“As long as Justine is talking, she can’t do anything to us,” Niki said. “So we’ve got to stall her until the police come.”

If they come, Terry thought. David had been gone for quite a while. Still, Niki’s idea made sense. “Justine—” he called. She turned to him, annoyed.

“What is it now?” she said.

“I just—I just wanted to know how you managed to fool all of us so completely. I mean—everything seems to be planned down to the last detail.”

Justine was obviously pleased. “I’m glad you appreciate my efforts,” she said. “I’ve been planning this for a very long time. And I must admit—even I didn’t suspect how successful it would be.”

“So all of it—the invitations, the surprises—all were part of your plan?”

“Of course,” said Justine. “Everything was leading up to this moment. And now it’s time—”

Niki interrupted her again. “But how could you do it all?” she said. “For instance, someone hit me and carried me downstairs. It couldn’t have been you—”

“But of course it was!” Justine smiled just exactly as if someone had complimented her on her hair.

“But how did you get me down to the basement?” Niki went on. “I know you’re strong, but even you couldn’t carry me that far.”

“I didn’t have to,” said Justine smugly. “There’s an old dumbwaiter system in the house. I just put you into it on the second floor and then lowered you to the basement.”

“What about the cut banister?” said Terry. “Did you do that too?”

Justine laughed. “What do you think?” she said. “I realized before the party that someone might suspect me, so I arranged for my little accident. It wasn’t hard at all. When I was a teenager, I studied gymnastics.”

She’s thought of everything, Terry thought. We don’t have a chance. He tried to come up with something else to ask Justine, to keep her talking, but his mind had gone blank.

“What about Les?” said Niki suddenly.

“What about him?” said Justine.

“The others heard you talking to him before we came in here,” Niki said.

Justine laughed, a scornful laugh. “They heard me. But I’d be willing to bet they didn’t hear Les’s side of the conversation! But time is wasting,” Justine said, her smile fading. “If you will look up toward the ceiling, you will see that I have put up some state-of-the-art speakers for your entertainment.”

Terry glanced up, surprised. As Justine had said, four huge speakers were attached high on the walls just below the ceiling.

“The speakers are connected to a battery-powered cassette deck I have out here,” Justine went on. “Which reminds me. It’s time to begin your penalty.”

“But what about—” said Terry.

“No,” said Justine. “No more questions. It’s time to get on with the rest of the surprise.” Again she smiled, a smile so sweet that it was shocking in contrast with the terrible things she was saying.

“When I started thinking about how to make you pay,” she said, “I realized that I wanted you to suffer the same way my parents had suffered long ago. But I couldn’t arrange a car accident. And then I realized I could easily reproduce the worst parts of a car wreck.” She ducked below the window a moment, then stood up again. “I just switched on a tape that I made especially for you,” she said.

A low rumbling began to come from the huge speakers. Terry recognized the sound of a car engine starting up.

“Since I can’t re-create a real accident,” Justine went on, “I’m going to make you hear what it is like, hear the shriek of twisting metal, the screams of pain from the terrified victims . . . ”

The sound of the engine grew louder, and now there were new sounds, those of tires squealing around curves as the taped car picked up speed.

Is this what she’s going to do to us? Terry wondered in shock. Make us listen to a tape of car crashes? Is that all?

“Of course, just hearing the sounds of an accident isn’t enough,” Justine went on as if she’d read his thoughts. “For you to really pay, you must also experience the pain they experienced, and die the way they died.” She flicked on a cigarette lighter.

“I’ve piled a bunch of oily rags in the area just outside the dining room,” she said. “I’m going to go in and light them now. It will take a few minutes for the flames to reach you. You’ll have plenty of time to think about what my parents suffered—and what’s going to happen to you!”

She bent down again, then walked away from the window. Terry wanted to talk to the others, to try to plan an escape, but the soundtrack on the tape quickly grew from loud to deafening. He couldn’t hear anything as the car on the tape speeded up.

A moment later there was a sickening squeal of brakes, the crunch of twisting metal, shattering glass, and then the screams—screams of pain—and terror. Over and over these sounds played, so loud that Terry could feel their vibrations in his whole body.

To the screams on the tape were added the screams of the guests trapped in the dining room, their hands clapped over their ears as they tried to shut out those dreadful, overwhelming noises. It was the most horrifying experience Terry had ever been through. He didn’t think anything could be worse.

And then the first tendrils of smoke began to seep under the dining-room door.